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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23824786">To Feel</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderpiperose/pseuds/thunderpiperose'>thunderpiperose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Brigandine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bagdemagus - Freeform, Brigandine - Freeform, Brigandine Grand Edition, Dryst - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Iria - Freeform, Romance, Ulster - Freeform, camden</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:35:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23824786</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderpiperose/pseuds/thunderpiperose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Iscalio has finally unified Forsena. Will a once ruthless Killer Doll come to terms with her feelings? Iria/Dryst.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iria/Dryst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Mine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Summary: </strong>Iscalio has finally unified Forsena. Will a once ruthless Killer Doll come to terms with her feelings? Iria/Dryst.</p><p><strong>Disclaimer:</strong> The characters are not mine. There is no profit taken from this work.</p><p>Warning, this fanfiction contains spoilers about Iscalio's ending.</p><p>The extra scenes in Grand Edition are included here.</p><p>I love Brigandine, Iscalio especially. It's such a shame that not many know about it, so here's a short two-chapter tribute.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>Mine</strong>
</p><p>Everything was covered in darkness except for the mysterious spotlight that shone above her. Her body, covered in her usual battle attire and defensive armor, was suspended from an unknown height and yet, she felt light, like a still pendulum. She looked at her outstretched arms and saw that she was tied by strings to something above that kept her hanging.</p><p><em>Like a doll</em>, she thought. <em>But why?</em></p><p>She turned her gaze upward and saw a tombstone whereupon the name "Iria" was engraved.</p><p>She remembered. His majesty named her after his beloved dog. What did she feel about that? What should she feel about that?</p><p>Iria's eyes opened. She looked around to see that she was lying on her bed in the middle of her room. It was a vivid dream. Normally, she wouldn't ponder about dreams because she considered them visions which had no effect and significance to reality, however, now that she had regained her feelings and emotions, she couldn't help but think.</p><p>
  <em>His majesty named me after the dog he had matching armor with. The one with the enormous tombstone. Why would he do that?</em>
</p><p>Iria could barely describe what she felt, after all, she had just regained her feelings and emotions after so many years of not having them. If she couldn't identify and properly describe her emotions, how could she even start looking for explanations that would ease her mind? Recovering her emotions made her feel more fulfilled as a human, however, it also gave her great confusion.</p><p>She closed her eyes, breathing deeply to make herself relaxed. Ever since the incident with Bulnoil when she burned the runes on her body, she couldn't rid her mind of the thought about King Dryst saying that no one who messes with him should get away with it. That was why she went after Bulnoil alone without telling anyone. When she returned to the royal palace in Caelsent with Shooting Star Halley, both of them badly wounded, and got told that she was selfish and disgraceful for doing what she did, Dryst slapped her as if she was indeed a dog to be disciplined. There was something else she felt aside from shock. Shock was a strong emotion, she knew this from her comrades and enemies who she went to battle with, but this other feeling lingered. If shock was like a sharp, shooting pain, then this was like a dull pain that occasionally returned whenever she recalled that day when Dryst hurt her so wilfully, without a second thought. Her injuries from Bulnoil were considerably painful, but that petty slap from his majesty, even though he clearly held back, was of a different weight.</p><p>Iria rolled to the side and curled up in her bed sheets. His majesty this, his majesty that. Couldn't she think of anything else? She wasn't unlike this before she recovered her emotions. Perhaps not much had changed?</p><p>If not much had changed, then why couldn't she look Dryst in the eye when memories of that day suddenly resurface? Surely, after all the commotion with the Snake of Chaos and the celebration last night, he had already forgiven her. Why would her heart beat faster whenever he called her name even though it was a dog's name and sure enough, all he needed from her was a trivial errand? How many more questions must pass her mind before she got out of bed and spent the whole day alongside him again?</p><p><em>Strange,</em> she thought. If there was anything that Dryst was, he was definitely a strange man. Like at the celebration last night…</p><p>
  <span class="u">Last night</span>
</p><p>Bagdemagus and Camden were holding Ulster down as Bagdemagus shoved a bottle of wine for him to drink and Camden poured wine all over him. After such frivolous talks about dividing Forsena and restarting the war, Ulster completely expressing dissent against the idea, they just wanted him to loosen up and forced him to drink. Iria couldn't control herself, she was already holding in her laughter when Ulster cried for her help.</p><p>"That's the way, Ulster! Drink up! It's the delicious taste of victory," Dryst said with absolutely no regard for the unfortunate man as he drank his own wine, straight from the bottle.</p><p>Because of Ulster's predicament coupled with that remark, Iria let out a heartfelt laughter, the kind of laughter that she had never experienced before. She couldn't see the four men, but they were all looking at her dumbfounded.</p><p>"Wait, what?" Camden uttered.</p><p>"Is that Iria?" Bagdemagus asked.</p><p>"Laughing?" Ulster joined in.</p><p>Iria's laughter echoed throughout the throne room.</p><p>After the festivities, a knight knocked on Iria's room to inform her that King Dryst wished to tell her something in his private room. She was in the middle of arranging her personal belongings for transfer to the knights' quarters considering that she was fired from her post as general, but she thought that any request from his majesty should be given the highest priority. His orders were absolute. She laid down her helmet on the nightstand and proceeded to Dryst's private quarters.</p><p>Dryst was sitting at the round table in the antechamber of his private room, sipping on a glass of distinguished red wine. Iria entered the antechamber and closed the door behind her.</p><p>"Iria!" Dryst greeted, his arms flung wide in a grand gesture. Grandiose as always. "The fun starts tomorrow, prepare yourself. We can't lose to those losers."</p><p>Iria stood near the door with an expressionless façade. "Your majesty, I thought… you had fired me."</p><p>"Oh, loosen up!" Dryst smirked. "I heard you laughing. Just be there tomorrow!"</p><p>"Yes, your majesty." Iria bid him farewell with a gesture of respect and quickly exited the antechamber.</p><p>
  <em>He heard me laughing. What does that mean? Does he think I find his idea of continued war… fun?</em>
</p><p>Iria went to sleep that night with a lot of unanswered questions on her mind, but there was one thing she knew for sure. It was so much easier to serve her master when she could not feel anything.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. To Feel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>To Feel</strong>
</p><p>Iria got up and steeled herself for yet another unpredictable day. She washed herself and wore her usual pieces of armor. It was early and there was enough time to sharpen her spear even if she went for a breath of fresh air at the palace balcony. She needed to clear her thoughts and act as if nothing had changed, that she was still an emotionless Killer Doll. Otherwise, she risked interrogation and reprimands if Dryst caught her acting in a weird manner.</p><p>But could she?</p><p>She didn't even bother wearing her helmet when she left the room.</p><p>
  <span class="u">At the Palace Balcony</span>
</p><p>Iria recalled the image of the tombstone in her dream.</p><p><em>The dog named Iria had such a grand tombstone, will he have a grave as grand as that made for me?</em> She shook her head. <em>What's wrong with me? That thought is too morbid. Iria, you're just a doll laced with strings!</em></p><p>She thought of what she had told Cador, the Death Knight, about how she was defective yet human. Human because King Dryst showed her… love?</p><p><em>Love?</em> Was that too strong a word? What does love even mean to someone who has never felt anything until a few months ago? Does love explain her unusual awkwardness? Does love explain the shame she felt when she was fired for being selfish and disgraceful?</p><p>Iria gazed at the mountains to the north. The view at the palace balcony was unmatched, and because of the breathtaking view of the mountains at near dawn, her thoughts were pushed to the background, like white noise that lingered in her mind, unheeded.</p><p>"I didn't expect to see you here so early." That tone of voice, so casual yet unnerving, pulled Iria's thoughts down to earth. "Shouldn't you be preparing, sharpening your spear?"</p><p>Iria turned around to see Dryst still in his silk night robe. It was a garish purple, like the cloth of his cape. He was holding a glass of red wine. She recalled that Ulster had complained about him drinking so early in the morning.</p><p>"Your majesty…," Iria sighed, like a meek child avoiding eye contact with the person scolding her.</p><p>Dryst raised an eyebrow. "You've been acting strange since that incident with Bulnoil. Don't give me another reason to discipline you, Iria."</p><p>Iria barely heard his words. Her thoughts were consuming her. <em>How many years has it been since his majesty found me in nothing but tattered clothes, roaming the wild? Since when did I have this feeling?</em> Her thoughts spiraled, no one knew for sure whether it was a result of emotions which were unconsciously repressed for years, suddenly bubbling up to the surface, like anger that was long bottled up and suddenly bursting into rage. The feeling was far from rage but Iria knew she had to do something. She needed a release.</p><p>"Iria?" Dryst called, a bit irritated that she was just mindlessly staring at the floor in front of him. He walked toward her, thinking of whether to slap or shake her out of her trance. "Iria, are you-"</p><p>Before he could lay a hand on her, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down for a kiss. Dryst's eyes widened in surprise, he was so surprised that he lost his grip on his glass of wine. It fell to the floor and shattered, precious red wine spilling on decadent white marble.</p><p>Iria parted her lips from his and looked into his eyes with an expressionless face.</p><p>Dryst furrowed his eyebrows. "What did you do that for?"</p><p>Iria's face contorted into an expression of unease and all she could say was, "Your majesty," before she bolted down the stairs to the palace, running to her room.</p><p>With eyebrows still furrowed and face in a full frown, Dryst looked down at the broken glass and the spilt red wine. It looked like blood. It was as if she stuck a knife in him by surprise and he bled.</p><p>"No use crying over spilt wine," he mumbled. <em>Did she at least taste it?</em></p><p>…</p><p>
  <em>What a pain.</em>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">Iria's private room</span>
</p><p>Iria looked at herself in the vanity mirror and placed her pointer finger slightly into her mouth.</p><p>…</p><p>
  <em>It was bitter.</em>
</p><p>It was going to be a long journey to Logres.</p>
<hr/><p><strong>Author's Note:</strong> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Thanks!</p>
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